SEEB-TilSSE AH© HABVEST. 
oughly established, and has come to be so 
much a matter of inheritance, that the life 
•of the tree is greatly modified and even de¬ 
termined by it. The peach is naturally a 
dong-lived tree, instances brought to my 
notice showing that it may live for upward 
of one hundred or more years, and, if well 
-cared for, it will certainly produce fruit for 
:a long period. At the present time, however, 
as in the great peach districts of Delaware 
and New Jersey, we find that, owing to the 
certainty of disease appearing, or the in¬ 
herently weak constitution resulting from 
its previous operation, the period of a profit¬ 
able life is limited to nine years, at the end 
of which time the trees are rooted out of 
the soil as worthless.— D. P. Penhallow, in 
Popular Science Monthly for July . 
Where are you Goins, Young Man? 
Where are you going so fast, young man, 
Where are you going so fast, 
With the cup in your hand, and a flush on your 
brow ? 
Though pleasure and mirth may accompany you 
now, 
It tells of a sorrow to come by and by; 
It tells of a pang that is sealed with a sigh: 
It tells of a shame at last, young man — 
A withering shame that will last. 
Where are you going so fast, young man ? 
Where are you going so fast? 
In the flush of that wine there is only a bait— 
A curse lies beneath that you’ll find when too 
late; 
A serpent sleeps down in the depths of that eup; 
A monster is there that will swallow you up; 
A sorrow you’ll find at last, young man— 
In wine there is sorrow at last. 
There’s a reckoning day to come, young man; 
A reckoning day to come, 
A life yet to live, and a death yet to die, 
A sad, parting tear and a sad, parting sigh; 
A journey to take, and a famishing heart, 
A sharp pang to feel from Death’s chilling dart; 
A curse if you drink that rum, young man, 
The bitterest curse in that rum. 
How He Came To “Swear Off.” 
“No, I won’t drink with you to-day, 
boys,” said a drummer to several compan¬ 
ions, as they settled down in the smoking 
car and passed the bottle. “The fact is, 
boys, I have quit drinking—I have sworn 
off.” He was greeted with shouts of laugh¬ 
ter by the jolly crowd around him; they 
put the bottle under his nose and indulged 
in many jokes at his expense, but he re¬ 
fused to drink and was rather serious 
about it. “What’s the matter with you, 
old boy?” sang out one. “If you’ve quit 
drinking, something’s up; tell us what it 
is.” “Well, boys, I will, though I know 
you’ll laugh at me. But I’ll tell you all 
the same. I have been a drinking man all 
my life, ever since I was married, as you 
all know I love whiskey—it’s as sweet to 
my mouth as sugar—and God only knows 
how I’ll quit it. For several years not a 
day passed over my head that I did’nt have 
at least one drink. But I am done. Yes¬ 
terday I was in Chicago. Down on South 
Clark street a customer of mine keeps a 
pawn shop in connection with his other 
business. I called on him, and while I was 
there a young man of not more 25, wearing 
threadbare clothes, and looking as hard as 
if he hadn’t seen a sober day for a month, 
came in with a little package in his hand. 
Tremblingly he unwrapped it, and handed 
the article to the pawnbroker, saying, 
‘Give me ten cents.’ And, boys, what do 
you suppose it was ? A pair of baby shoes, 
little things with the buttons only a trifle 
soiled, as if they had been worn only once 
or twice. ‘Where did you get these ?’ asked 
the pawnbroker. ‘Got ’em at home,’ replied 
the man, who had an intelligent face and 
the manner of a gentleman, despite his sad 
condition. ‘My—my wife bought them for 
our baby. Give me ten cents for ’em—I 
want a drink.’ ‘You had better take the 
shoes back to your wife; the baby will 
need them,’ said the pawnbroker. ‘No s-she 
won’t because—because she’s dead. She’s 
lying at home now—died last night.’ As he 
said this the poor fellow broke down, 
bowed his head on the showcase and cried 
like a child. Boys,” said the drummer, 
“you can laugh if you please, but I—I have 
a baby of my own at home, and I swear 
I’ll never drink another drop.” Then he 
got up and went into another car. His 
companions glanced at each other in silence; 
no one laughed; the bottle disappeared 
and soon each was sitting in a seat by 
himself reading a newspaper.— [Chicago 
JleraU 
